


Calculations

by marvelandimagine



Category: Daredevil (TV), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, F/M, Fluff and Smut, Strangers to Lovers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-17
Updated: 2016-06-16
Packaged: 2018-07-15 13:17:56
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 8,194
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7223815
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/marvelandimagine/pseuds/marvelandimagine
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Vladimir x reader. My first ABO per Tumblr request; Vladimir finds the wounded omega runaway reader in his office and after stitching her up, offers her a job when he learns that she was an accounting major. Both eventually realize they're each others mates, but both are also incredibly scared of the "real" thing and struggle to accept the inevitable. Ends in smut and fluff!</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

Vladimir enters his office, looking down at his phone in one hand and drinking coffee with the other. When he looks up, he nearly spills the coffee on himself; thrown by the sight of your small body curled up on his couch.

“что ебать?” he murmurs incredulously, mouth slightly agape with confusion.

He looks at your still form huddled up under a tan trench coat, a maroon beanie askew on your hair. He’s never seen you before – he’d remember a face that pretty.You look fairly innocent – can’t be more than in your early to mid 20s – but since this is a mob boss’ office, Vladimr’s sense of suspicion is incredibly heightened.

He cautiously removes his gun from the waistband of his black jeans, approaching you slowly as he taps the barrel lightly against your arm. You don’t respond at all, causing his brows to furrow together before he sees the rise and  
fall of your chest.

He starts to tap your forehead incessantly, utterly bemused by how you could possibly still be undisturbed.

He jumps slightly as you shift below him, a frown appearing as you finally register the coldness tapping lightly against your forehead. You forget where you are for a second, responding how you normally would to being awoken:

“What the fuck?”

Your bleary eyes blink open and widen as the world comes into focus. Your brain catches up to your body and you let out a sudden yelp, realizing that the coldness against your face is from the cool metal of a gun, and, there’s not only a gun in your face, but there’s a looming, blond figure wielding it who looks as if he could probably do more damage than the firearm.

You both move at the same time; you springing up off the couch immediately, while Vladimir quickly raises his gun level with your forehead.

“WOAH, WOAH, WOAH!” you yell out quickly, wide eyes fixed on the threatening figure in front of you as you hold your hands out in what you hope is a pacifying gesture.

The gun remains pointed at you, however; the same scowl fixed across the Vladimir’s face. You curse inwardly at yourself, knowing full well that there is a very good chance you’re about to die, but still find yourself stopping for a second to appreciate how attractive this stranger is. Dark, well-fitted clothes accentuating his cut physique, messy blond spikes, tattoos littering his chest and hands and a face still handsome despite the jagged scar that runs down one side.

Vladimir can’t help himself from admiring you either. Even though you look disheveled as all hell, your outfit still somehow looks great on you: black skinny jeans ripped at the knees that accentuate your ass, heeled ankle booties and a tartan scarf layered over a Columbia University crewneck. Your eyes are wide in panic, making the color stand out vividly in the morning light.

You both jolt back to reality, though, as Vladimir speaks:

“Who are you and what are you doing here?” he snarls.

You find yourself cursing internally again – you’ve always been a sucker for a smoldering accent. But not a sucker enough to let yourself get killed.

You adopt the most pacifying, kind tone that you can muster and the hurried words rush off your tongue in a blur.

“Hey, hi, my name’s Y/N, it was super fucking cold out and I needed a place to crash; the back door was open so I came in; I’ll grab my shit and go just -” you flap your arms down repeatedly - “just put the gun down, OK? I may be a homeless omega, but I’m still not ready to get shot.”

Vladimir remains silent but lowers the gun, causing you to sigh audibly with relief; putting your hands in a praying position and pointing your fingers at him in gesture of thanks. The harshness in his face remains, but his eyes betray curiosity.

“You don’t look homeless,” he says, taken aback by the way you suddenly laugh. He’s both impressed and bewildered by how unfazed you seem that you just had a gun pointed at you.

“Recent life transition. Bond broke with my boy- well, ex boyfriend, and let’s just say he didn’t handle it well.” You pause for a second as last night’s events rush back through your brain and you exhale deeply.

“Speaking of that,” you murmur quietly gingerly lift the edge of your crewneck to expose a mess of gauze, blood and duct tape.

“Fuck, I was hoping that was maybe just a dream.”

You seem to struggle with something for a second, your face betraying a growing sense of desperation. Your bright eyes lock onto Vladimir’s, sad but still possessing a warmth that removes the hesitation he has about trusting you.

“Look, I’m not an idiot, I know where the different mobs post up in the city; judging by your accent and the gun you pointed at my face, I’m assuming this is Russian territory?”

Vladimir pauses, unsure of how much he wants to reveal, but you cut him off in exasperation.

“I’m not a fucking cop, OK? Look, I just …I just figured that … you might have more experience with this sort of thing than I do. Like I said before, I’m really not trying to die here. And hospital visits cost dollars, which my shit waitressing gig does not supply plentifully, so …”

You take a deep inhale, this time wincing and repressing a growl as pain shoots through your side. Vladimir’s face softens and he feels something almost protective take over him. He doesn’t know exactly why, but he knows he wants to help you. He rubs the unscarred side of his face with his hand before he sighs:

“You won’t die. Come on.”

Vladimir motions for you to come forward and feels a slight smile flit across his face at the look of utter relief and gratitude you give him.

“I know you may have almost tried to kill me today, but I owe you.”

You hop up gingerly onto his desk, rolling up your sweatshirt to expose your sloppy bandaging job. Fresh blood is seeping out the edges, spilling across your smooth skin and down to the waistband of your jeans.

“Off.”

“What?”

Vladimir nods his head, motioning at your crewneck.

“It’ll get in way.”

You shake your head as you chuckle quietly, removing your scarf as you smile at him coyly.

“Can I at least get your name first if I’m stripping for you?”

Vladimir is thrown off by the flirtatious tone you take, swearing at himself internally as he feels his cheeks growing red. But you look so sweet sitting there, your eyes sparkling despite the obvious pain you’re in. And it’s clear that you’re not afraid of him. And the thought of getting to see any part of you bared down is sending heat through his whole body, not just his cheeks.

He sets his jaw as he clears his throat, refocusing on the stab wound and trying to not stare too much as you pull the sweater over your head, revealing a simple black bra that shows off enough cleavage to have Vladimir blinking rapidly and readjusting his gaze before you notice.

“Vladimir,” he mutters, stepping slowly to your side.

“Vladimir,” you repeat warmly. You smile shyly this time, an interesting contrast to your previous coquettish tone.

“Hey, Vlad, I really appreciate this. I don’t know what I could really do to help you or the Russian mob, BUT if you think of something, just say the word.”

Vladimir nods in response, secretly enthralled by the nickname you just used. It feels nice, it’s familiar– it’s like you’re looking at him as another human, not someone to be scared of or just someone to fuck.

He kneels down closer to the wound; his rough fingers running across your skin lightly, applying pressure here and there before he abruptly rips a piece of duct tape off your skin.

“JESUS CHRIST!” you yell, reflexively clawing at the now inflamed skin. “Some warning would have been nice, Vlad.”

Vladimir grins wolfishly. “Ok, warning, Y/N.”

Before you can even protest, he rips a second piece off. This time you don’t yell out, containing the pained and irritated sound in your throat.

You flick two fingers against the side of his head and he glares at you while you smile tauntingly.

Now it’s Vladimir’s turn to chuckle as he starts peeling back the thick layers of gauze that cling to the congealed blood.

“You are sassy for omega.”

You snort as you rub wearily at your eyes.

“And you’re surprisingly not that much of a dick for an alpha.”

Vladimir looks up at you curiously.

”How’d you know?”

You shrug. “Just a feeling I have a sixth sense for that kind of thing.”

You pause as Vladimir continues to look at your stab wound, watching as the blond stands up and moves to the opposite side of his desk to pull out a small box of medical supplies.

“You need stitches.”

You nod in response, back turned to him as he grabs a bottle of vodka from the drawer and places it near your side.

”You might want this.”

You can’t help but laugh as you pick up the bottle.

”Indeed I do.” You raise the bottle to him as he moves to stand at your side and he feels himself smiling once more as you joke lightly: “Kudos for being a stereotypical Russian and having this on hand, Vlad.”

He continues to stare at you seriously, unsure of how to respond. You being so relaxed around him throws him off balance – something that doesn’t happen often.

“Hey,” you say gently, waving in front of his face with a small smile. “You know, you can smile, right? I don’t bite.” You smirk as you grab the bottle, eyes glinting mischievously. “Unless you’re into that.”

Vladimir has to consciously fight to keep his hands to himself, watching your half-dressed form take the bottle to your mouth like a pro; pouring a generous amount into your mouth, scrunching your eyes closed at the fiery residual taste and shaking your head. He’s never met anyone like you – let alone an omega woman like you. Then again, most of the omegas he’s met have just been people to fuck. Little conversation, no connections.

”Woo, taking me right the fuck back to freshman year.”

Vladimir snaps back to reality at your comment and he threads the needle through your skin. You bite down on your lip hard, balling one hand into a fist as you take another sip.

Vladimir watches you intently, surprised when you don’t cry out. Combined with curiosity and a buried sympathetic instinct, and something else that he can’t quite explain, he decides to keep the conversation with you going. He likes hearing your voice.

“What did you study?”

“Accounting and math double major.”

“So why waitress?”

You actually burst out laughing, startling Vladimir and causing the needle to go in deeper than planned. You do cry out this time before biting your knuckles, earning a genuine, “Sorry” from the Russian.

“It’s ok,” you murmur, rubbing your knuckles with your thumb. “Um, well, if you haven’t noticed, Wall Street isn’t the most gender-inclusive. Women there are just fucktoy secretaries … ‘specially if you’re an omega. I actually did get one interview but it was pretty clear why they wanted me. But I didn’t want that.”

A lightbulb switches on in Vladimir’s brain and he abruptly stops stitching you up, reaching behind you for a stack of papers on his desk. Your pulse quickens as you stare straight forward trying to ignore how close he is to you; the smell of his cologne dangerously enticing. You could only imagine how good his pheromones must be.

You look at him confusedly as he places the papers in your free hand and you look down to find yourself staring at one of the sloppiest spreadsheets you’ve ever seen.

“Um, what exactly am I looking at?”

With a final tug, Vladimir finishes the stitch and looks back to admire his handiwork, nodding to himself before his blue eyes meet yours. You grab your sweater and pull it gently over your head, savoring its warmth.

“How you pay me back for stitches and how you stop being homeless.”

The confusion only deepens on your face as Vladimir looks at you impatiently, waiting for your brain to catch up. He snorts as the dawning realization crosses your face and you inhale deeply.

“Wait, wait, are you… you’re offering me a job … with the Russian mob?”

Vladimir nods and you make a face, half torn between incredulity and exhilaration. You scan the numbers quickly and Vladimir smirks as your eyes grow wide, subconsciously shifting to rest your head on your hand with amazement.

“Are all those zeros supposed to be at the end of these numbers?” you ask, your voice constricted comically.

“Da.”

You make a strangled kind of squeak before you look up at Vladimir again.

“And I’d be making …?”

Vladimir looks at the papers, scanning before he finds the number he’s looking for and pointing.

“Little more than this.”

The flabbergasted look you give him in response is too much for Vladimir and he finds himself laughing, genuinely laughing for the first time in what feels like ages as you let out a quiet “holy fuckkkkkk” and place your head in your hands.

“That … that’s more than enough to find real estate in Hell’s Kitchen, at the very least,” you say, looking up at him and rolling your eyes at his shit-eating grin on his face.

“Oh I’m sorry, not all of us are mob bizzilionaires!”

Vladimir perches himself up next to you on the desk, still smiling. His expression softens a bit as he realizes how close the two of you are sitting, thighs almost touching, and he has to pull himself out of his head and back to business.

“You could be too.”

“But isn’t it some sort of ethical grey area to have a non-Russian working for the Russian mob?”

Vladimir chuckles and shakes his head. “I’m boss. If I say it’s ok, it’s ok.”

You look at him dazedly. The notion of working for a criminal empire doesn’t faze you – Wall Street is just a bunch of criminals anyways. But what does faze you is why you’re being picked.

“Ok like this sounds surprisingly and shockingly sort of perfect, but Vlad, you don’t even know me .. why would you trust a stranger to handle this?”

Vladimir gazes at you intensely but this time, there’s no harshness in his gaze. He can’t explain himself, can’t explain why he finds you so compelling. But there had to be a reason why you ended up in his office when Wesley had just ripped him and Anatoly apart for fucking up numbers a few days ago. He tells himself firmly that it’s not just an excuse to keep you around, it’s a business tactic.

“You went to good school, didn’t cry from stitches … and you drink like Russian already.” He pauses, startled by the way his chest feels as you smile at him, before he continues. “It’s just a feeling … We need someone good at math,” he adds hastily.

Hearing your words echoed back at you feels almost too much like fate too ignore. I mean, there had to be a reason why you were drawn to this specific office of this brooding but ultimately sweet Russian crime boss, right? And you did need money for an apartment, after all. But you have one last question.

“Could we still be friends even though you’d be my boss? You’re too much fun to mess with,” you add quickly, rubbing your neck apprehensively and wonder if you were being clingy. But you couldn’t help it, like Vladimir said, you just had a feeling … a feeling that you were supposed to meet him for some reason, whatever that was.

Friends. God, when was the last time he had heard that, let alone had one of those apart from his brother and Sergei? Vladimir looks at you, all hardness erased from his expression as the earnest sweetness in your voice and gaze stirs something inside him. 

He nods, running a hand awkwardly through his blond hair. “Yeah, friends.”

You hop down off the desk, beaming, and extend your hand to Vladimir. He clasps his rough, tattooed hand in yours, an inexplicable feeling rising in both of your chests at the contact.

“Well, I guess it’s time to get Columbia-schooled, Vlad. You’ve got a deal.”


	2. Chapter 2

7 months later

“Vlad, you need to calm down.”

“I am calm.”

“My ass, you’re as red as my sweater. Come on. What’s up?”

You stand patiently in front of Vladimir, who’s pacing around his desk, the shattered remains of a glass tumbler strewn across the floor.

Vladimir sighs at the concerned tone of your voice, running a hand through his blond spikes as he replies through gritted teeth.

“That fucking мудак in the mask – he could destroy everything. Everything I built with Anatoly.”

His gaze flickers briefly to your troubled, but pretty face before looking at the ground. His voice quiets as he continues:

“Everything I built with you.”

You sigh and uncross your arms, walking over to him and running a hand soothingly on his toned, right bicep.

“I know you’re worried, but I’ve also lived here my whole life. Every other month, you get a new vigilante motherfucker who thinks he can “save his city” or whatever. He targets one group until, inevitably, a bigger, badder, generally psychotic problem emerges. Obviously, we need to be cautious now, but I really don’t think this guy is going to wreak systematic havoc. Trust me,” you add with a reassuring smile, and Vladimir exhales deeply rubbing his temples.

You laugh sadly, gesturing out to the tall blond.

“C’mere. It’s all going to be fine. When am I ever wrong??”

Vladimir rolls his eyes but still, the corner of his mouth turns up as he steps into your quick embrace.

“Thanks, Y/N,” he says grudgingly, but he’s smiling.

“Of course, Blondie,” you say cheerfully, running a hand through his blond hair and laughing playfully as he mutters under his breath.

“You’ll be the death of me, женщина,” he says with a sigh.

“Um, pretty sure this женщина is the only one around here keeping you sane, sweetheart,” you retort quickly.

Vladimir rolls his eyes but he laughs, forever enamored –though often irritated– by your sass; how absolutely unafraid of him you are. How you actually, genuinely like him – the good and bad parts.

“Speaking of such, you wanna come over later? I’m swinging by Sasha’s after I leave to pick up an ounce and I’m in desperate need of shitty Chinese and Netflix time.”

When Vladimir sighs and starts muttering something about “paperwork,” you give him the doe-eyed look you know he can’t resist.

Vladimir groans.

“Don’t give me that, Y/N.”

“What?” You say innocently, the corner of your mouth twitching as you fight to keep a straight face.

“The ‘I’m cute so I can get whatever the fuck I want look.”

Your heart skips a beat as you register that Vladimir just called you cute, but as usual, you hide your feelings under a thick layer of humor.

You place your left hand over your heart with an “Awww,” and a wicked grin:

“You think I’m cute?!”

The normally composed Russian is thrown off balance by your response, cursing himself inwardly as he feels his face growing red. He doesn’t understand how easily you can work him; why he gets so flustered around you. Well, at least he tells himself that he doesn’t know the reason.

“That’s not, I mean, da, but -”

You try to suppress your giggles but fail, your smile only growing wider.

“You’re blushing, Vlad,” your playful, sing song voice only making his cheeks flare up faster.

Vladimir’s eyes narrow and when he opens his mouth and speaks, with that tone, soft and dangerous and so damn sexy, you know you’re in trouble.

“Come here.”

“нет,” you yell, drawing a quick salute before you sprint toward the door, a shriek of laughter escaping you as a pair of very strong arms drag you back, wrapping tightly around your waist.

Vladimir’s chuckling too now as you continue to laugh and try to move forward but to no avail. You place your own hands on top of Vladimir’s tattooed ones as you try to pry them apart; your cheeks warming at the contact with his skin and your bodies pressed against each other. You fight the urge to back your ass up purposefully, fighting the growing desire that sears into your lower abdomen.

“Vladdddd, I’m too tired to get myself out of this,” you sigh dramatically, giving up all resistance and simply letting yourself savor the feeling in your chest at being so, so deliciously, dangerously, close to him. You keep your hands on his,lightly tracing the outline of the crowned skull.

You hear Vladimir let out a barely repressed, contented, “mmm” at your touch – you don’t know it for sure, but he’s fighting the exact same kind of emotions and desire as you.

God, it’d be so easy to take you right then and there; the sudden hardening in his jeans pressing him on. But his usual instinct is held in check by something more powerful, more intimate – fucking you wouldn’t be just about fucking you, it’d be about showing how much he adores you. Something he’s never felt. He bites his lip before his speaks, wondering if he’s going to regret it, but goddamn,your laugh is just so sweet and you’re so gorgeous and right there, so close, and you feel so good and so right being that close. it’s suddenly so clear how much he wants you, not just physically, and it seems to shut his inhibitions down for a second as he murmurs softly:

“Then don’t.”

Your heart starts racing as his left hand moves underneath yours tentatively, rough fingers curving upward to slip between your own. You can’t even think of a clever comeback this time. Goddamn it, maybe it was time to stop running from how you felt about Vladimir and start running with it.

You squeeze his hand in response before slowly turning your body to face his. You feel breathless as you realize how close he really is to you, those bright blue eyes staring into your own with a kind of tenderness that you’ve never seen in his gaze.

His eyes stay fixed on yours as one of his hands moves slowly to settle on your waist, his thumb briefly skimming over the sliver of skin exposed from your cropped long sleeve.

Your breath hitches as your body tingles with anticipation for what you hope is about to happen – what you’ve been dreaming of practically since the day you met the Russian mob boss. You break eye contact for a split second as you glance down at his lips; the foot of empty space – separating you and the man you’ve fallen so fucking deeply for, the one who you believe you’re destined to to soul bond with – suddenly turning to inches as Vladimir moves closer, your eyes shutting as a slightly shaking hand moves to frame your face.

Then there’s the sound of the office door slamming wide open and your heart races again, but this time, in panic. Both of you whirl to face the door, cheeks flaming, to discover Anatoly cursing loudly and staring down at his phone.

“гребаные пиздас. Fuck those Italians and Alessi. We need to settle shit as soon as-”

Anatoly stops as he looks up from his phone, eyebrows raising at the sight of you and Vladimir standing so close but both pointedly avoiding eye contact with each other.

“Hey, Y/N,” he says curiously, eyes flickering from his brother back to you. Vladimir’s blue eyes are fixed on the wall; yours are blinking quickly and inspecting your chipping black nail polish.

“Hey, Toly,” you say, feigning your normal cheerfulness as much as possible. You force yourself to turn back to face Vladimir, your heart pounding in your chest again.The expression on his face is carefully neutral, but you can practically feel the frustration and helplessness radiating from his gaze.

“I’ll let you deal with this. Um, do you wanna continue, the, our conversation later? I’m good to hang whenever after I stop by Sasha’s.“

Vladimir nods quickly and you smile sadly, forcing yourself to keep it together before you let the irrational tears of disappointment and hurt come on the subway. Yeah, you’ll see him later, but this moment just felt so fucking perfect. It took this long for Vlad to make a move; would he do it again? Or pretend like it never happened. You love Toly as a friend, you really do, but right now you want to rip his goddamn head off.

Vladimir is thinking along the same lines, fully preparing to bruise his little brother into the next millennium the second you step out the door.

“да.”

He smiles crookedly at you as you shift your bag on your shoulder awkwardly.

“I just found someone who can cover paperwork.”

He stares pointedly at his brother and you laugh sincerely, a sense of relief flooding through him at the sound.

“Good.” You smile affectionately. “Text me when you’re leaving.”

You utter a quiet, “Bye, Toly,” before stepping out the door, power walking your way down the hall and out of the garage before you start laughing and crying all at once; digging through your bag to find your sunglasses as you take shaky breaths to steady yourself.

“It’s ok, it’s ok, this sucks, but it can happen later. It can happen later. You still have a chance with him. It’s not over yet.”

-

The second you shut the door, Vladimir strides across the room, barely giving Anatoly a moment to open his mouth in confusion at the beyond dangerously pissed off look on his brother’s face before he’s getting hit on the head repeatedly.

“WHAT THE FUCK?!” Anatoly yells in bewilderment, suddenly finding himself pinned up against the wall, his brother’s hands gripping the collar of his jacket.

“Do you not know how to knock, you fucking shithead?!” Vladimir hisses venomously, giving his brother one last smack upside the head before angrily striding over to his desk. He pulls out a bottle of vodka from the drawer, ripping the cap off as he pours two shots worth of liquid down his throat and slams the bottle down on the desk.

“The fuck for?! Wait, were you and Y/N … oh, shit.” Anatoly grimaces in apology but laughs, earning a deadly stare from his older brother.

Anatoly holds his hands up in surrender. “Hey, I really am sorry. I’m just impressed that you both got your clothes back on so fast.”

Vladimir drags his hands down his face, his anger fading to weariness in a second, shaking his head.

“We weren’t fucking. I mean, we probably were going to. But I was, I was finally about to kiss her.”

He keeps his hands over his face, the anger in his voice replaced by sadness.

“I finally, FINALLY, balls up and accept that she’s my mate, and then you walk in the goddamn door.”

“Fuck,” Anatoly says quietly, striding quickly over to his brother and clasping a consoling hand on his shoulder.

“I really am sorry, Volodya. I didn’t know. But, hey, she was into it right? Just do it when you see her later.”

Vladimir lowers his hands from his face and Anatoly is surprised by the uncharacteristic anxiety etched there.

“I just don’t want it to be weird now,” he mutters dejectedly.

“It won’t be,“ Anatoly says sincerely. He smiles gently.

“You are king in America, you found your queen. You’ve got to go get her. But even if it is a little weird at first, she’s still going to go for it just as much as she did here. And it’s probably better that you’ll be soul bonding at her apartment instead of your office, honestly.”

Vladimir can’t help but laugh at that, nudging his brother’s shoulder gratefully.

“Thanks, Tolya. Still pissed at you, but you can deal with this shit to make up for it,” he says brightly, pointing to the stack of folders on his desk.

Anatoly groans, pulling out a cigarette and lighting up before taking a long drag.

“You’re lucky I like you two together.“

Vladimir ruffles his baby brother’s hair, grabbing his jacket and sunglasses off his desk as he moves toward the door.

“Volodya?” Anatoly calls back.

Vladimir turns around, pushing his dark sunglasses on over his eyes.

Anatoly grins. “I’m happy for you.”

Vladimir grins back with a nod, a hopeful feeling in his chest restored at his brother’s encouragement. This was no time to pussy out.

He walks down the hall and out the garage, preparing to make his usual right to take the train to your apartment, but suddenly gets an idea and turns left. If he’s going to show you that he’s fallen so fucking deeply for you, he might as well do it properly.


	3. Chapter 3

You’re sitting cross-legged on the ground, trying to steady your nerves by focusing on rolling the fat joint in front of you. Lord knows you’re going to need some marijuana to calm yourself down if Vladimir doesn’t try to kiss you again.

You finish rolling and place the joint on your coffee table, standing up and walking to the full length mirror in your bedroom. You look relaxed enough at first glance: charcoal grey Nike joggers, a red and black flannel rolled at the sleeves and a loose black T-shirt emblazoned with “NOUVEAU PUNK” in white.

Your hair is air-dried; long and in loose waves with the only product being an anti-frizz serum. Your make-up is simple, too: dark mascara accentuating your full lashes and a swipe of black liquid eyeliner across your top eyelid.

Underneath, however, you’re the opposite of relaxed – you figure as long as there’s a chance that you’re getting laid, it doesn’t hurt to prepare. You had dug out your favorite black lace pushup bra with a bow in the center and a matching thong, taking a deep breath as you looked at yourself in the mirror.

It wasn’t that you were nervous about sex or about your body. You were nervous about the significance of what would happen when – and if – you and Vladimir slept together.

You’d had bonds before, but none of them could even compare to the way you already felt connected to Vladimir – and after today, the way he looked at you before that kiss was the final confirmation that led you to feel he was in the same boat.

It was simultaneously exhilarating and nerve-wracking at the same time; you could only hope that you still had a shot at finally getting together with Vlad even after the awkwardness of earlier.

As you make your way back to your living room, you take a deep breath and hum along to your carefully selected music playing from your iPhone:

“The city sits below and we take, shots at the moon.

I wanna give it to you.

Tell me is it so bad, ‘cause it hurts like that when I think about it.

We’re both cynics now and it kills me, but I’d die for you anyway.

Are you so scared when it hurts right?

There’s no way around it, in too deep now and we’ll never be the same.”

You’re startled suddenly by the knock at your door, anxiety and anticipation tingling in your slightly shaking hands.

Your calf socks slide across the hardwood floor as you move quickly to your couch, grabbing the joint like you’re just finishing rolling and calling out, silently praying to whatever deity is listening that tonight will work out.

“Door’s open!”

You don’t even look up as you hear the creak, nerves flooding through you. You’re never, EVER nervous around guys; this is something new to you and it’s your curse internally at your sudden

Your eyes are stuck on the joint – assuming that it’s Vladimir opening the door and not a random axe murderer – as you talk out into the air, forcing your voice to sound casual.

“Sasha hooked me up good; I hope you’re ready to get fucking toasted because I packed it super full.”

You’re met with uncharacteristic silence, though, forcing you to look up from the table in confusion and sincerely praying there is not an axe murderer in your apartment.

It’s not. It’s just Vladimir, but you’re probably as surprised as you would’ve been if said fictitious axe murderer had strolled into your apartment.

He’s smiling nervously, one hand shoved into the pocket of his dark jeans and the other clasped around the stems of three red roses.

“Hey.”

You seem to forget how to breathe and speak at the same time, your mouth falling open slightly in delighted incredulity as you stare wide-eyed. You stand up slowly as you move toward him, biting the corner of your lip as you smile – Vladimir mirroring you, looking adorably pleased at your reaction.

“So, do you have a date after this orrrrr,” you say lightly despite the fact that you want to throw up from nerves, running a hand through your hair as Vladimir groans with exasperation and you laugh, quickly stepping up to him

“I’m sorry, you know I’m just messing with you.”

Vladimir exhales deeply, shaking his head slightly at your typical antics but returns the smile you give him as he hands you the flowers.

“They’re beautiful, Vlad,” you murmur quietly. “Why three?” You ask curiously, heart threatening to pound out of your chest.as you gently place the flowers on the counter and meeting his gaze.

Vladimir’s own heart is racing as he steadies himself for what he’s about to do, the almost kiss in the afternoon flashing vividly in his head. It’s time to finally do, to say, what he’s been wanting to since the day he stitched you up while you stole his heart that first day in his office. 

Vladimir gently takes your hands in his, his thumb running delicately across your skin. He looks nervous but determined, his bright eyes fixed on yours; the harshness of his scar fading with the tender sincerity in his countenance.

“Three for three words,” he says softly, his blazing gaze sending exhilaration coursing through your veins.

You step closer to him, lessening the distance between you as you reply, your voice barely above a whisper.

“Which are?

Vladimir unclasps his hand from yours, sending pleasured chills down your spine as he brushes your long hair behind your ear; his tattooed hand delicately tracing the curve of your cheek and resting it there.

“You are smart girl. You know what they are,” he murmurs affectionately. 

You take a deep breath, your face inches apart from his. Your heart is racing and you know that after this, everything will change. You slide your own hand up to rest on the navy fabric of Vladimir’s shirt before you smile slightly; the last thing you see before you close your eyes the bright blue of Vladimir’s.

“Then show me I’m right.”

Suddenly, finally, Vladimir’s lips are crashing against yours and you’re shoved against the kitchen island; your own mouth eagerly matching his own intensity and enthusiasm. He tastes so good, he feels so right – God, why did you two wait this long to do this?

Vladimir’s line of thinking is similar, the adrenaline coursing through his veins unlike anything he’s every experienced. He’s imagined this a thousand times, but this is indescribably better than any fantasy he’d ever conjured. You’re here with him now, this is real, and God, you are so fucking beautiful.

You grin against his mouth and he pulls back for a second, matching your smile as you quickly, happily speak; your words sending a thrill through him different than the heat surging through his blood. This feeling goes straight to his heart.

“I love you too, Vlad.”

“It’s you, красивая,” he says breathlessly, framing your face with both his hands and knowing damn well that he’s maybe got a few seconds before he gives into all instincts and conversation is the last thing on his mind. “Always been, ever since the day I met you.”

You beam at him and nod dazedly; you too feeling your primeval drive start to flood out all other thought besides sex.

“I feel the same. Now, let’s fuck ‘till we can’t move, shall we?” You say with a coy grin, gasping slightly from the previous lack of oxygen.

Vladimir chuckles darkly, earning a surprised but delighted laugh from you as he suddenly sweeps your legs out from under you and into his arms, bridal style.

“Good plan,” he says smokily, eyes glazed over with lust and his own smirk as wolfish, as sexy as ever as he half jogs down your hall as he carries you to your room.

You land quickly on your feet the second he shuts the door, already shirking off your flannel and t-shirt. Vladimir’s eyes go dark with desire as he gazes at the black lace bra, eyes raking over the exposed skin.

All previous gentleness forgotten, he quickly spins you, pinning you back against the door he just shut with his hands grabbing your hips roughly, pressing his body fully against your own.

You knot a hand in his blond hair and wind one around his back as his lips slam into yours, trading wet, open-mouthed kisses before sliding your tongue past Vladimir’s teeth.

He moans as your tongue works fervently against his, your hands working quickly to undo the buttons on his dark shirt. Your tongue technique isn’t the most precise, but you don’t care – all you care about is the heat flooding into your core and the growing dampness in your panties.

You pull your tongue back as you only to nip down on Vladimir’s bottom lip, his frustrated growl causing a smirk to appear on your flushed face. You pull your face back as you finally get the last button undone – both you and Vladimir tug at the fabric at the same time as he throws it aside carelessly – your pulse racing as you hum coyly, dragging your nails downward across his chiseled chest.

“You like it rough, don’t you Vlad?”

Your smirk quickly turns into a pleasured gasp as Vladimir, eyes blazing, takes his tattooed hand to your throat, the other roughly squeezing your left breast.

“You know me well, котеноk.”

You feel your neck slick with pheromones; Vladimir certainly notices too because he buries his face on the side, a moan passing through your lips as he kisses the exposed skin, teasing you as he rakes his teeth there.

”Tell me who you belong to,” he husks, taking his hand from your throat only to slip it tantalizingly slow down your sweatpants; his fingers teasing you as he rubs the lace fabric against your clit. Your body shakes slightly in dizzying anticipation of the thought of him entering you.

“You, Vlad, only you, baby,” you mewl, bucking against his hand, desperate for him to be inside you.

Satisfied with your answer, Vladimir kisses you harshly – it’s him who bites down this time – before his hand pushes the lace aside; coating his fingers with your slick and rubbing quick circles on your clit.

“Ngh, fuck yes, get in me, Vlad,” you whisper breathlessly, bucking your hips against his hand in frenzied desperation.

Vladimir’s fingers stop suddenly and you growl in irritation, earning an amused chuckle from him as he removes his hand entirely; his eyes boring into yours as he licks your slick off his fingers.

“Mmmm, good girl, nice and wet for my cock,” he purrs seductively; his low tone only making the wetness between your legs more unbearable. You need him, crave him.

You instinctively kick off your sweats, turning purposefully to show off your thong-clad ass and hearing the aroused groan he emits at the sight.

“я не могу ждать, ебать , что тугие задницы,” he says, voice constricted by pressing desire.

You turn coyly over your shoulder, the sight of Vladimir’s shirtless body causing you to bite your lip as you hop onto your bed, spreading your legs and keeping eye contact with him as you slide your hand down your lace panties, gasping as you realize how absolutely soaking you are.

You grind against your hand, spreading your slick all over as Vladimir kicks off his jeans, the sound of his zipper coming undone like music to your ears.

”Vlad, baby, c’mere, I need you so bad,” you whine, your eyes heavy-lidded with your own lust as he bounds onto your mattress; you lick your lips when you see his erection is painfully hard – and big – through his boxers.

You eagerly bound toward him, settling on your knees as you look up at him through your lashes, eliciting a sharp inhale from him as you run your nails down his inner thighs.

“Give me your cock, Vlad, I’ll make you feel so good,” you purr, gasping slightly as Vladimir grips your hair tightly in one hand, pulling his boxers down with the other.

“Good little slut, so fucking hot,” he grunts.

The sight of his hard, long dick finally exposed nearly stops your breathing – you can’t even imagine how deliciously full you’ll feel when he enters you.

You don’t have more than a second to process, however, before Vladimir pushes your head forward, your lips widening as you take as much of him as you can in your willing mouth.

You smile around his cock at the strangled gasp he makes, quickly taking your hand to your own panties, gathering slick on your fingers and using it to coat the remaining length. You pump him in your hand while you suck and lick him relentlessly; matching the pace set by Vladimir’s rough tugging at your hair.

“да детка , возьми мой член,” he pants – you don’t need to know Russian to know that he loves what your tongue is doing. Now it’s your turn to tease.

You take him out of your mouth and into your hand, gazing up at him adoringly as your tongue kitten licks his slit and laps up the beads of precum that have started to run down him.

Vladimir lets out a delighted groan, longing for you to keep going, but his knot is starting to swell and god, he needs to be inside you.

He pushes you roughly onto your back, your eyes sparkling as they lock on his and you lick your lips, savoring the way he tastes on your tongue.

He practically rips your panties off, dragging them down your legs and flinging them carelessly to the side. He throws you off as he kisses you tenderly, cupping your face in his hands.

He pulls back, his forehead touching yours.

“Ready?”

You smile happily.

“God, yes.”

Vladimir wastes no time in flipping you onto your stomach, your ass raised high in the air in thrilled, albeit slightly nervous anticipation. Finding your mate, soul bonding – this was the real deal.

You hum with pleasure as Vladimir’s hands knead at your ass, switching the sensation to lightly run his nails down the soft skin of your back, delighting in the way you shiver under his touch.

“я тебя люблю, Y//N,” he says softly.

“Three for three words.” 

You realize what he’s just said and you know what you’re going to say back.

You clear your throat slightly, hoping to the heavens that you don’t sound like an idiot, and mimic his clear, soft tone.

“я тебя люблю, Володе.”

If Vladimir could’ve picked a moment to die happy, this beautifully sweet moment with this beautiful woman would’ve been it.

There’s heat inside his heart, too, as he grips your hips and lines himself up at your entrance. He goes in slower than you’d expect, but you cry out in pain and pleasure all the same as he bottoms out inside you, filling all of you..

“Fuck yes, Vlad, take me,” you hiss.

He groans deeply, savoring your wetness, how tight you are for his throbbing cock.

“ты так плотно, так чертовски хорошо для меня,” he growls, pulling himself out o fyou before slamming into you again; his quick thrusts, murmured Russian and pleasured grunts bringing you closer and closer to orgasm each time.

”Oh my God, Vlad, ngh, I’m gonna come so hard for you,” you pant out breathlessly, your thighs starting to quiver as you near your climax.

Suddenly, you’re raised onto your knees, one of Vlad’s strong arms wrapped tightly around your chest, squeezing at your breast. His chest presses against your back, sticky with sweat. You start to feel his knot swell inside you and you know he’s close as well.

”Yes, you’re perfect, so wet for my cock inside you,” he growls back, panting with each thrust inside you.

You bring your hand back to wind around his neck, tugging mercilessly at his blond locks. He feels so good inside you; the two of you intertwined to become one.

He continues to pound you and you cry out, eyes closing and tilting your head back to expose your neck.

”Mark me, Vlad. Please. I need you, I’m all yours,” your voice rising in pitch, hand knotting tighter into his hair, your orgasm threatening to rip through your body at any second.

Vladimir quickly pushes your hair aside, his hips still bucking against your ass as he nears his own orgasm, his swelling knot begging for release.

”You’re mine, love,” he moans possessively before sinking his teeth fiercely into your skin.

That does it. With a final cry of his name, a blinding orgasm unlike anything you’ve ever felt consumes you, rippling through your body like an electric current; your back arching against Vladimir’s chest as you gasp, chest heaving.

He feels his walls clench around you and that’s the final trigger he needs for relief, biting into your skin again with a muffled moan of your name, a hurricane of emotion and pleasure shooting throughout him – obscuring all other thought than focusing on you. His warm cum fills you, spilling out and down the backs of your thighs.

He keeps you clutched to his chest as you both collapse onto your bed, his knot keeping you connected as he spoons you; bodies melded together, fitting together as if you were made to be there, chests rising and falling together in unison.

It’s like the world is different, clearer somehow. It’s like your senses have sharpened, utterly attuned to Vladimir’s body, the way he feels in you, the way he’s breathing – and it’s like you can feel the emotions flooding from him: pleasure and exhaustion and something stronger, more encompassing, protective, even. It’s love.

Vladimir hugs you close to him, pressing gentle kisses all over your back, in your hair. God, you are absolutely glowing – he’s always though you were beautiful, but he’s never seen you so absolutely radiant. You’re giving off a physical heat, but also another kind too, something less tangible – it’s like a symphony of happiness and affection. He realizes that this sensing, this absolute focus and understanding on his mate, this must be soul bonding.

He smiles as he reaches for your hand, interlacing it with your own. You snuggle closer into him, aware that your range of motion is restricted for the next 30 minutes, and carefully shifting slightly to turn your head to look back at him.

“So, that was fucking incredible.”

You both laugh together and Vladimir plants a quick, but adoring kiss to your lips before kissing your cheek gently.

”да. Perks of finding your mate.”

You unlace your hand from his to raise it, laughing as Vladimir rolls his eyes when you high five him.

“Amen to that.”

You hum happily as Vladimir starts to play with your hair, planting a kiss on your shoulder blade.

Now that you’ve soul bonded, there’s no hesitation, no fear – you both know you’re each others, wholly and truly.

“I love you, beautiful,” Vladimir murmurs against your skin and you sigh and smile contentedly, blinking back joyful tears of knowing that you’re finally here where you need to be: mated and absolutely in love with the big, bad, but sweet and fiercely devoted Russian mobster who stitched you up all those months ago.

“I love you too.

Vladimir wraps his arm tighter around you, shifting you so he’s even deeper inside you and smirking when you fight back another moan.

“Shut up,” you mumble and your mate grins into your skin; both of you tangled together before falling asleep peacefully in each others arms, lulled by the knowledge that you’ll each be the first things you see when you awaken to your new life together.


End file.
